


Truth or Dare

by epeolatry



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Begging, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, Dry Humping, Exhibitionism, F/F, F/M, Fingerfucking, Hand Jobs, M/M, Menstrual Sex, Rimming, Shower Sex, Threesome - F/M/M, Truth or Dare, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-30
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-03 01:59:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1064362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epeolatry/pseuds/epeolatry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A select few Les Amis get into a very messy game of Truth or Dare</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Enjolras:

Hey, I’ve finished tutoring early

tonight. What are you up to?

 

R:

HANGING WIT MA BOIIISS!!!!!

 

R:

Ahem. Bahorel says hi. We’re

all round my place, wanna join?

 

Twenty minutes later Enjolras climbed the last flight of stairs up to Grantaire’s tiny apartment and was confronted by a gaping hole where the battered front door usually stood. The door, he could see, was now impersonating a welcome mat, lying inside the threshold amidst a scattering of its own splinters. The sounds of raucous laughter and general revelry drifted out of the tiny flat, mixed with the clinking of bottles and a thudding bassline being played through tinny speakers.

 

“Uh, ‘Aire?” Enjolras called, hesitant about stepping onto the collapsed door but seeing no other way into the apartment.

 

“Enj!” called Grantaire, his grinning face coming into view around the doorframe, and Enjolras could see straight away that he was already tipsy, “Come in! Don’t mind the... _that_ ,” he gestured vaguely at their feet, “Come in! We’re playing truth or dare.”

 

“ _Really?_ ” Enjolras raised an eyebrow, “Are you also braiding each other’s hair and reading your horoscopes?”

 

Grantaire laughed, “Well we didn’t exactly mean to start, it just sorted of happened…”

 

Enjolras stepped into the flat to find Éponine, Bahorel, Feuilly, Musichetta, Courfeyrac, and to his surprise, Marius and Cosette all sitting in a circle on the paint-stained floor with an empty vodka bottle in the centre.

 

“It just ‘happened’?” asked Enjolras as the room burst into laughter as Courfeyrac took to his dare rather too enthusiastically, shoving his tongue down Marius’ throat while Cosette laughed wickedly.

 

“Well… Éponine hates it when Bahorel slams the door, so naturally he does it all the time, and she foolishly said, ‘I _dare_ you to do that one more time,’ so he did and, well, you saw the result… Feuilly promised to fix it tomorrow if ‘Ponine gave him the rest of her cigarettes. Then Marius got worried that someone might break in – well, not so much _break_ in as walk casually in – but he got worried, so everyone’s staying the night to protect us from prowlers. And Courfeyrac suggested truth or dare to keep us awake.”

 

“Are you sure he didn’t have an ulterior motive?” Enjolras asked sceptically as Courfeyrac held down a protesting Marius and kissed up his neck from collarbone to jaw line.

 

Grantaire laughed again, “Well it was Cosette’s dare… You wanna play?”

 

“I most assuredly do not. But I’ll watch.”

 

Ten minutes later Enjolras joined in the game, having learned the hard way that observers are often in more danger than the players during truth or dare; he had been forced to endure being licked in one long line from the sole of his shoe to the crown of his head by Musichetta, had been given charge of Feuilly’s cigarettes after the carpenter was dared not to smoke for an hour by a vindictive Éponine, and had been subjected to a lap dance from Bahorel.

 

“Alright, Enjolras’s turn!” crowed Courfeyrac joyfully as Enjolras gulped down the last of his beer to steel himself for whatever was coming.

 

“I pick… truth.”

 

Courfeyrac grinned, “Are you, or are you not, a virgin?”

 

Enjolras had been studying politicians all his life, so he easily side-stepped the question, “Yes and no. It depends on your definition of virgin.”

 

“Okay, fine,” Courfeyrac sighed theatrically, as though he deeply regretted the next words he was about to speak, “Have you put your cock up Grantaire’s arse yet? Or alternatively, had his cock in yours?”

 

The room erupted into giggles but Enjolras kept his cool even as Grantaire spluttered around a mouthful of wine.

 

“I’m sorry, but the rules state that you only get one question, which I’ve already answered. The next victim is…” he spun the bottle, “Bahorel.”

 

Bahorel shrugged confidently, “Dare.”

 

“Switch clothes with Éponine,” Enjolras ordered with a smirk, having been struck by the juxtaposition between the largest and smallest people in the room since he walked in.

 

Éponine peeled off her tight fitting t-shirt with the candour of habit while Bahorel’s wife beater was tugged over his head. Marius averted his eyes while Courfeyrac wolf whistled as Éponine’s leggings and Bahorel’s jeans were similarly stripped off and exchanged. The cat calls fell away into bursts of drunken sniggering as Éponine was all but swallowed up by the folds of Bahorel’s clothing and the boxer struggled into Éponine’s shirt, which was small on her and positively indecent on him. Once he had squirmed into the leggings Bahorel coolly eyeballed Enjolras, then spun the bottle.

 

And so the game went on, the truths becoming increasingly more personal and the dares more sexual as more alcohol was consumed…

 

“Musichetta – who tops more often, Joly or Bossuet?”

 

“Oh sweetie, I usually top the hell out of both of them!”

 

* * *

 

“Cosette, that’s a terribly short skirt you’re wearing… I dare you to sit on Feuilly’s lap for the rest of the night!”

 

* * *

 

“Grantaire?”

 

“Truth.”

 

“What does Enjolras’ cock taste like?”

 

“Like the tears of angels.”

 

“ _’Aire!_ ”

 

* * *

 

“I dare Enjolras to let Musichetta braid his hair. With ribbons.”

 

* * *

 

By midnight Feuilly was shaking from nicotine withdrawal and the frustration of Cosette’s extremely short skirt, Bahorel had only one eyebrow, Musichetta and Éponine were making out with each other in a corner, and Courfeyrac had made it so explicitly obvious that he wanted to have a threesome with Marius and Cosette that his freckle-faced flatmate refused to look anywhere but at the floor.

 

All of them were absolutely hammered, including Enjolras who had quickly cottoned onto the fact that truth or dare could only be played while drunk if any shred of dignity was to be preserved. After all, tomorrow morning he could shrug off being made to fellate the neck of a bottle with the excuse that he was drunk, but he’d never live it down if he had been sober.

 

At some point during the night Grantaire had toppled down beside him and they now sat entwined on the floor, Grantaire’s legs over Enjolras’ lap and one of the artist’s hands fiddling absently with the end of a ribbon spilling out of Enjolras’s braided hair. Enjolras had a warm arm around Grantaire’s shoulders, holding him close, and his head rested on top of dark curls.

 

“Grantaire!”

 

“Hmm? Dare,” he mumbled with a sleepy grin, his eyes falling in and out of focus.

 

Courfeyrac considered with a wicked smile; in hindsight Grantaire would realise that conceding to a dare from Courfeyrac was dancing with the devil, but at the time he was too drunk and content in Enjolras’ arms to realise much of anything.

 

“I dare you… to outdo the girls.”

 

It was a testament to the predominant sexuality in the room that none of the boys seemed to have been paying any attention to the two girls in the corner before Courfeyrac pointed them out; Éponine was sprawled on the floor, still wearing Bahorel’s too-large clothes, with Musichetta straddling her, kissing one another messily as Musichetta’s hands wandered easily beneath the loose hemline and the waistband of Bahorel’s jeans and vest.

 

Courfeyrac winked suggestively at Grantaire as the artist looked shyly up at Enjolras, seeking permission for a rare public display of affection. After all, their fledgling relationship had thus far only resulted in penetrative sex once, and Enjolras was yet to feel comfortable even holding hands in public. But Enjolras smirked haughtily and whispered so that only Grantaire could hear, “Let’s show them how it’s done.”

 

Then to the surprise of everyone present (including Grantaire), Enjolras shoved his boyfriend back onto the floor and sat astride his pelvis, leaning down to kiss him fiercely.

 

Even Musichetta and Éponine dazedly broke apart at Courfeyrac’s whoop of mingled shock and delight to see Enjolras grinding down on Grantaire as the artist groaned unashamedly into his boyfriend’s mouth. Musichetta raised an eyebrow and leaned down to whisper something in Éponine’s ear which made the other girl bite her lip smilingly and nod. Musichetta returned to kissing the darker girl but sweetly this time, the drunken desperation of a moment before swallowed up in the heat of competition. She kissed her way down Éponine’s throat, sucking softly at the delicate skin over the other girl’s pulse point as she rolled her hips sensually, teasingly.

 

Cosette’s eyes were locked on the two other girls with a look of keen interest; Marius was looking only at Cosette with a kind of quiet desperation on his blushing face; Bahorel’s mouth was gaping open as he stared at Enjolras and Grantaire, a mixture of astonishment and hunger clouding his dark eyes; Feuilly was watching Enjolras and Grantaire as well, a laconic smirk on his face as he inhaled deeply on the cigarette he had managed to steal and light during all the excitement; and Courfeyrac couldn’t seem to decide which way to look, his eyes flicking between the two pairs of writhing bodies and occasionally across to Marius as a huge grin remained frozen on his face.

 

Grantaire was rapidly losing himself in Enjolras, the student’s lips flavoured with sharp spirits, his tongue pushing insistently into Grantaire’s mouth, the heat and pressure of the other boy straddling his hips, firm hands holding his arms above his head, and the haze of alcohol dimming his mind to the presence of the others. Grantaire’s hips bucked up into Enjolras, a whimper of pleasure escaping him at the friction and the bite of Enjolras’ fingernails into his pinioned wrists. Enjolras sank his teeth into Grantaire’s lower lip savagely, causing the artist to give a sharp cry and break their kiss, even as his hips rutted desperately against Enjolras.

 

“Shut up,” growled Enjolras darkly, so only Grantaire could hear, “Look at you, so desperate. I bet I could make you come like this. Would you like that? Do you want to come for me while everyone watches?”

 

Grantaire shivered beneath him, his eyes caught in shadow between lust and danger.

 

Courfeyrac watched this exchange hungrily, though he heard none of it; he had never imagined Enjolras would be so forceful, had always assumed that Grantaire initiated intimacy between them, but now Grantaire was spread out on the floor, groaning, with his hands pinned above his head and Enjolras… Damn, _Enjolras_ was turning Courfeyrac on! Courfeyrac looked down at his tight jeans where his erection was rapidly becoming quite prominent. The student glanced around the room and saw to his relief that the other boys were all in a similar condition; Feuilly was serenely lighting up his second cigarette in as many minutes while he watched Enjolras growl at Grantaire, the bulge at his crotch obvious even through his baggy work trousers, and Bahorel was palming himself unselfconsciously though Éponine’s leggings which, dear god, were sinfully tight and must be creating the most amazing friction… Even Marius was suffering, crossing his legs to try and hide his hard on as Cosette whispered hotly in his ear, her delicate fingers grazing sensually over his chest.

 

“Ten points to the boys for all round boners,” sang out Courfeyrac with a grin.

 

Éponine extricated her hand from where it was tangled in Musichetta’s hair just long enough to wave her middle finger in Courfeyrac’s direction. Musichetta took the opportunity to pull Bahorel’s wife beater over Éponine’s head and kiss down her cleavage.

 

“And ten points to the girls for breasts!”

 

Enjolras continued to grind his hips down into Grantaire, his cock already hard and the friction maddening and nowhere near enough. Enjolras sucked harshly at the juncture of Grantaire’s neck and shoulder, adding a possessive red bruise to the splatter of bitter green paint already marking the skin there. Grantaire groaned and clutched convulsively at air as Enjolras bit down hard, ornamenting the bruise he had just created with a circlet of teeth marks. Enjolras kissed his way back up Grantaire’s neck as the artist caught his breath in short, sharp gasps, then paused to suck his earlobe into his mouth and whisper huskily, “Are you going to be a good little slut and give them a show?”

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” was all Grantaire managed in shaky reply as one of Enjolras’ hands slid under his shirt and pinched a nipple hard, the rhythm of his hips speeding up until they were outright humping each other on the ground, messily and without shame as their friends looked hungrily on.

 

Enjolras kept up a steady commentary as he drove Grantaire closer to orgasm, muttering quietly, “They’re all looking at you, seeing what a good little slut you are for me, how needy you are… _God_ I’m so hard, you make me want you so bad! You’re such a good boy, and you’re mine, and everyone can see that you’re

mine right now. All. Mine.” He punctuated the last two words with sharp bites to Grantaire’s neck, “Now beg for it. Beg me to let you come in front of all these people. Beg me to prove to them that you belong to me.”

 

“ _Please_ ,” Grantaire whimpered breathlessly, any control he may have had long gone and only the desperate need to come driving him as he bucked up into Enjolras, “ _Yours_.”

 

“Good boy,” hissed Enjolras, “You have permission.”

 

Enjolras’ judgement was hazy with intoxication and his own arousal, but he was fairly sure that Grantaire came only seconds after he gave the command, and the thought made his own frustrated cock twitch excitedly.

 

Grantaire groaned as he came, the sound long, low, drawn out, and utterly debauched. Enjolras slowed then stilled his movements as the noise fell away into panting breaths, and he released Grantaire’s hands to stroke his dark curls soothingly, murmuring, “Perfect, that was perfect. You’re such a good boy. You make me so happy when you come for me like that. I’m so lucky you’re mine, and now everyone knows it too.”

 

Grantaire smiled weakly, though his eyes remained closed, “You didn’t..?”

 

“No.”

 

His smile quirked suggestively, “Well then, I- ”

 

“Oh my god!” exclaimed Courfeyrac disbelievingly, “Was that… Did he just..? Game, set, and match to the boys, holy fuck!”

 

Enjolras smirked down at Grantaire as the artist opened his eyes ruefully, “You were saying?” prompted the student, pressing his hips down to highlight his continued distress.

 

“Um, shall we go somewhere a little more- ”

 

Enjolras was on his feet and hauling Grantaire up after him before the artist even finished the sentence. He grabbed Grantaire’s hands again and pinned them together in the small of his back before pushing the artist roughly down the hall toward the flat’s only bedroom. Grantaire managed to shoot a sheepish grin over his shoulder at their friends before Enjolras slammed the door behind them.

 

“Holy fuck,” repeated Courfeyrac in an awestruck voice.

 

“You said it,” grunted Bahorel, making no effort to hide the ridiculously obvious hard on tenting Éponine’s leggings as he exhaled a plume of smoke from one of Feuilly’s cigarettes.

 

“I’m going home before this gets any messier,” said Feuilly, darting a meaningful look at Bahorel.

 

“Yeah. Me too,” nodded the boxer quickly, licking his lips hungrily as Feuilly wordlessly handed him another cigarette and headed out the door; Courfeyrac very much doubted if they made it home before taking care of themselves.


	2. Chapter 2

Once Feuilly and Bahorel had gone, Courfeyrac was left sitting alone on that side of the living room.

 

“Courfeyrac, darling,” purred Cosette from the other side of the room as Marius blushed beside her, “You’re looking terribly lonely. Come sit by us.”

 

Courfeyrac knew an invitation when he heard one, and oh boy, was he hearing one. He stood, aware of how obvious his arousal was through his skinny jeans, and walked over to the couple, seating himself close to Marius while Cosette shifted over a little so they were in a tight circle.

 

She glanced down at his crotch and smiled warmly before saying, “Marius, go on.”

 

Marius opened his mouth, then closed it again, blushing so hard it seemed unthinkable that his skin would ever return to a normal shade.

 

“Marius has something to ask you,” pressed Cosette lightly, “Go on, my love.”

 

“Courfeyrac, would you… Do you mind if…  Do you want to kiss me?”

 

Courfeyrac sniggered and Cosette suppressed a smile as he replied, “Did I not make it obvious enough?”

 

Marius’ cheeks were positively glowing, “Well I didn’t- ”

 

Courfeyrac surged forward and pressed his lips to Marius’s as Cosette watched with a gentle, pleased smile.

 

Courfeyrac, with the complicity of Cosette, had been cheerfully insinuating his desire for Marius for weeks, the co-conspirators having agreed that the best way to broach the subject with the sexually inexperienced student was in gradual increments. Tonight had been intended to be the beginning of step two in the process – introducing and normalising kissing between the two boys – but all of that went out the window as Courfeyrac felt Marius’s tongue slip out and brush against his lips questioningly, the taste of bourbon strong against his mouth and similar to the whiskey on his own breath.

 

A moment later Courfeyrac was lying in the floor with Marius atop him, their hips locked together as their kiss became desperately passionate. All the while Cosette alternated stroking Marius’ hair soothingly and mumbling words of encouragement to her boyfriend as he began to experimentally roll his hips down into Courfeyrac.

 

The forthright law student felt his prick twitch against the zipper of his jeans, then a fumbling hand slid below his belt and grasped him uncertainly.

 

“God, Marius,” he hissed, the cautious touches somehow driving him mad with lust, “ _Yes_.”

 

“You’re doing so well, my love,” whispered Cosette approvingly, “Do you like this?”

 

Marius seemed dazed as he pulled away from kissing Courfeyrac’s throat and looked at Cosette with wide eyes.

 

“Y-yes. Are you sure it’s okay?”

 

“It’s more than okay darling,” she soothed, “It’s beautiful.”

 

“It’s fucking fabulous,” groaned Courfeyrac as he undid the buttons on his jeans and allowed Marius greater access to his leaking cock, “God you must wank a lot to be this good.”

 

Marius flushed pink but didn’t stop pumping Courfeyrac, and Cosette planted gentle, reassuring kisses all over his face and neck, winding her fingers into Courfeyrac’s hair and petting him gently as she did so.

 

Courfeyrac moaned loudly as Marius swiped a finger over the head, wiping the precum along his shaft and lubricating his hand movements, “Cosette? Can I..?” he all but whined, looking to the blonde for permission. She smiled and nodded.

 

With a groan of relief and a grin, Courfeyrac gently placed a hand on Marius’s wrist and stopped his stroking as he whispered, “Have you ever sucked a cock before, Marius?”

 

“No,” murmured the freckle-faced boy, shooting an apprehensive glance at Cosette, who merely smiled serenely at him and entwined her gentle fingers with those of his free hand.

 

“It’s not difficult if you start slowly,” she soothed, “And of course we won’t make you do it if you don’t want to. You could just go down on me instead if you prefer.”

 

Marius’ thick, inviting lips hung open in a gape of surprise, as though he couldn’t quite process what was being asked of him. His two lovers made no move, patiently awaiting his decision.

 

“Could… Could you show me?” he asked, his mouth going dry at the thought and the alcohol spinning his already overloaded brain with dizzying images of the very near future.

 

“Of course,” Cosette smiled. Her free hand hovered over Courfeyrac’s length and when Marius made no move to stop her she grasped it and began slowly jerking him.

 

She leaned down and her perfect, pink lips were barely an inch away from the other boy’s leaking cock when Marius yelped, “No! Wait!” Cosette immediately let go of Courfeyrac’s prick and both she and the exposed student looked at their lover in concern.

 

“Wait,” he said more quietly, “Just… let me try?”

 

Courfeyrac and Cosette exchanged looks of surprise, but then Courfeyrac pulled his jeans and boxers off entirely and Marius reached out a tentative hand to once again grasp his cock.

 

It was light years away from the best blowjob Courfeyrac had ever received ( _his summer house; 2003; Jenny, the girl who lived two doors down_ ) but it was sweet and hesitant, and entirely unexpected, the culmination of weeks of plotting that he had never really thought would come to anything; even if Marius lacked finesse, it was still more satisfying than Courfeyrac would admit.

 

“Good, that’s so good,” encouraged the more experienced student, his voice steady but his breathing quickening under Marius’s somewhat clumsy touch.

 

Marius blushed and Cosette ran a fond hand through his hair as he bobbed up and down, whispering sweet nothings in his ear that made him relax the sharp set of his shoulders and focus on the rhythm of his hand and his tongue in tandem on Courfeyrac’s cock.

 

“Come here and give me a kiss,” demanded Courfeyrac playfully as Marius’ grip around him became firmer and his mouth became more confident.

 

Looking to Cosette for permission first, Marius slid back up Courfeyrac’s body at her encouraging nod and pressed his lips against Courfeyrac’s. Courfeyrac pressed back gently at first, running his tongue over Marius’s lower lip in imitation of the other boy’s earlier technique, tasting himself on Marius’s tongue. He was pleasantly surprised at the way Marius’s mouth opened eagerly for him; evidently Cosette was a good teacher. Marius whined needfully into the kiss and Courfeyrac gently tugged at his hair, pulling the boy away.

 

“Wh-what?” Marius stammered, “Sorry, was that- ”

 

“You were perfect,” hushed Cosette, “But we wondered if you might like to try something else?”

 

“Something else?” Marius looked quizzical, but not frightened, which was a good start, “Exactly how much time have you two spent discussing this sort of thing..?”

 

“We were wondering,” chimed in Courfeyrac, his rigid cock twitching eagerly as he spoke, “If you might like to try rimming?”

 

“Yes,” replied Marius eagerly, to the surprise of both Cosette and Courfeyrac, “Yes, please, I’d like that a lot.”

 

Courfeyrac looked at Cosette, “Have you ever-?”

 

“No,” she replied, “Marius darling, have you been keeping secrets from me?”

 

Marius blushed yet again, “No, not really… Not on purpose… I just saw it online once and thought it looked kind of amazing.”

 

“Online?” Courfeyrac smirked, “Do you mean to tell me that my precious, innocent baby watches pornographic films?”

 

Cosette laughed, “Your precious, innocent baby has done much worse than that, believe me!”

 

“I wont believe it until I’ve seen it!” huffed Courfeyrac in mock outrage.

 

“That can be arranged,” flirted Marius shyly.

 

Cosette and Courfeyrac grinned at one another, before Courfeyrac pulled himself into a sitting position and resumed kissing Marius, who straddled his lap. Cosette sat behind Marius and peppered kisses along the back of his neck before sliding her hands around his slim waist and beginning to unbuckle his belt. The second her delicate fingers wrapped around his prick he broke the kiss with Courfeyrac with a gasp. She hushed him and continued to stroke as Courfeyrac took the opportunity to crawl out from underneath him.

 

Slowly, the two stripped him, their wandering hands leaving Marius incapable of telling who was tugging playfully at his hair, who was kissing down his chest, who was pulling at his cock… It was heady and intense, and he found that he loved it, adored being at the centre of both their attentions, every kiss and caress focussed on him alone.

 

“Greedy boy,” Cosette tutted as he arched into the hand that wound again around his cock.

 

“Gorgeous,” murmured Courfeyrac lowly from behind him as he encouraged the naked boy onto his hands and knees then nudged his legs slightly apart, “Are you ready?”

 

“Yes,” whimpered Marius as Cosette twisted her small fist around his throbbing cock before releasing him to Courfeyrac’s care, “Please.”

 

“My pleasure,” grinned Courfeyrac, before spreading Marius’s cheeks wide. The sensation was foreign and it caused Marius to clench instinctively, the cool air in the apartment brushing across a part of him so often covered and hidden. Then the kisses began, lightly at first, dipping from the base of his spine down to the very top of his cleft, making him shiver. Then a kiss placed right over his hole made his entire body jerk sensitively.

 

“Shh,” Cosette soothed immediately, soft hands stroking through his hair, “Are you okay? Do you still want to try it?

 

“Yes,” Marius panted, “Yes, don’t stop, I just... It’s all new.”

 

“Usually I don’t like virgins,” breathed Courfeyrac tantalisingly against his entrance, “Too ingenuous. But you… darling Marius, you are a gem. And I’m going to make you feel so good if you’ll let me.”

 

“Please, I want you to,” whimpered Marius, and when he looked up at Cosette he saw only her sparkling blue eyes smiling down at him, so full of love and lust for her boyfriend as he was spread open by another man.

 

Courfeyrac kissed gently at Marius’s hole again and this time the inexperienced student didn’t shift; he merely moaned. Courfeyrac’s tongue slid out and lapped over the sensitive skin, the warm, wet flat of it licking firmly over and over until Marius was whimpering and his legs began to shake.

 

“You’re doing so well my love,” cooed Cosette, curling her fingers through Marius’s sweat-damp hair and leaning down to brush his lips with her own. To her surprise he pulled her down into a hungry kiss, little whimpers and moans escaping as Courfeyrac began to tongue him in earnest, not only licking but sucking and kissing at his hole hungrily before spearing his tongue in and out.

 

Marius yelped into Cosette as Courfeyrac pressed in a finger along with his tongue, but it was a sound of surprise rather than displeasure, and he once again begged his friend not to stop.

 

Cosette regarded him with hooded eyes, “Do you think you could come like that?”

 

“Y-yes,” breathed Marius, his hips stuttering as Courfeyrac ate him out tirelessly, continuing to kiss and tongue at his hole while two fingers worked in and out, curling and crooking in the most amazing ways.

 

“Then do it,” she permitted, “Please darling, I want to see you come for us.”

 

It only took another few moments for Marius to come with a cry and a whimper, his cock twitching as he spilt over the floorboards beneath his reddened knees. Cosette swooped down and immediately took his mouth in a passionate kiss, pulling away every few seconds to whisper small endearments against his lips. Courfeyrac moved out from behind Marius, licking his lips with a grin and slowly jerking his own straining cock.

 

“So good, such a good boy,” praised Cosette.

 

“But you haven’t… Neither of you…” Marius looked positively distraught that he had come but neither of his partners had.

 

“Oh darling, don’t worry about us,” Cosette purred sweetly, “We can take care of ourselves.”

 

“No,” objected Marius, “No, no, come here.”

 

He pulled her towards himself in a rare display of dominance, grabbing both her ankles and sliding her across the polished floorboards before spreading her legs and nosing eagerly under her short skirt, pressing kisses to the damp patch on her knickers.

 

“Oh darling,” Cosette sighed, “You’re too good.”

 

Marius snuffled against her and licked a long stripe up the material, making his girlfriend shiver.

 

“Well, I guess I’ll just- ” Courfeyrac was still smiling easily and adjusting his hard cock, about to stand and leave his friends to get on with their night.

 

“No, don’t,” Marius’s head whipped around and he stared imploringly up at Courfeyrac, still kneeling with his naked arse in the air, “You were so good to me, let me make it up to you. Please.”

 

Courfeyrac’s grin grew, “If you want to that badly who am I to refuse? What do you want babe?”

 

“You could… You could fuck me if you wanted to,” Marius ducked his head to hide his blush as both Courfeyrac and Cosette’s incredulous eyes met.

 

“Are you sure love?”

 

“You don’t have to. You’re not obliged to do anything just because I licked you out.”

 

“I know,” Marius nodded at both of his lovers, “I know that, but I want to. I want to please you both like you did for me.”

 

“So eager,” smiled Cosette, “Our good, eager boy.”

 

“Ours?” asked Courfeyrac with a quirked eyebrow.

 

“Yours,” grinned Marius, looking from one to the other.

 

“In that case…” Courfeyrac scooted back up behind Marius and ran his hands down the naked boy’s back until one finger brushed lightly over his spit-slicked entrance. His other hand slid through the come just beginning to dry on Marius’s stomach and then spread it over his hole as well before pressing three fingers immediately inside and making Marius arch and moan. He was surprised at how open the boy was already. Courfeyrac worked his fingers expertly, twisting them, scissoring them, and stretching Marius until his body was relaxed and he was keening with need.

 

Cosette meanwhile wriggled out of her knickers but left her skirt on, and gently guided Marius’s head back between her legs. He went to it with a will, licking his way inside her eagerly as Courfeyrac fingered him open efficiently yet passionately.

 

Courfeyrac scrabbled in his pocket for a moment before coming up with a condom and Cosette huffed out a breathless laugh at his proud smile. Marius whined as he sucked gently at his girlfriend’s clit, pressing two fingers inside her as he himself desperately wanted to be penetrated.

 

His wish was granted a moment later as Courfeyrac deftly rolled on the condom and pushed gently, slowly into his friend. Marius groaned loudly, the vibration echoing into Cosette’s body and making her squirm in pleasure as well. Courfeyrac stayed still for a moment, allowing Marius to adjust to the feeling of fullness, before he carefully pulled out again, then thrust back in. He set up a steady rhythm, not too hard or fast, just a comfortable tempo as they both got used to the other’s body, Marius’s soft cock slowly filling again as he rocked between his two lovers, his mouth and arse both gloriously occupied in ways that he had never known he’d needed them to be before this night.

 

Cosette began to shudder, murmuring incoherent encouragements to her boyfriend as she wound a hand in his hair and tugged him closer, causing him to redouble his efforts as she approached orgasm. Courfeyrac gradually sped up his thrusts, gripping Marius’s hips tightly and grunting as he fucked into that tight arse that he’d dreamt about for months. The three of them grew louder and more desperate every moment, until Cosette came with a cry, her fingers tangling so tight in Marius’s hair that he whimpered as her muscles clenched around him. He slowed his movements down to gentle licks over her slit, not wanting to overstimulate her as she smiled blissfully in the aftermath of her climax.

 

Just as Marius pulled away from Cosette entirely (her murmur of “Perfect boy,” making him smile sweetly) Courfeyrac curled his fist around Marius’s bobbing cock and began thrusting harder, more desperately.

 

Marius whined, “I’m- Courf!”

 

“Come for me babe, come on,” growled Courfeyrac, leaning down to bite gently at Marius’s shoulder.

 

Marius did, coming with a cry over Courfeyrac’s fist, his face scrunched up as though undecided between pain and pleasure. Courfeyrac followed him over the edge almost in the same moment, groaning long and low as his hips stilled, buried as deeply inside Marius as he was able to go and holding himself there as he came.

 

“Lovely,” sighed Cosette happily as the two boys collapsed together beside her, all still on the hardwood floor of the living room. The trio curled up together without another word, flesh warming flesh with no need for a blanket as a sated sleep overtook them one by one.


	3. Chapter 3

They stumbled along for two streets without saying a word, until Feuilly finally flicked out his third cigarette and grunted, “Fuck it,” before grabbing Bahorel and shoving the larger man into a nearby alley, slamming him into the wall as soon as they were swallowed by the shadows.

 

Bahorel was shit-faced but he was also horny as fuck, and he knew Feuilly well enough to distinguish between an attack and an attempt at seduction, so despite the elbow that jerked automatically up to thud into Feuilly’s sternum to drive the breath out of the workingman, he really wasn’t putting up much of a fight.

 

“ _Cunt_ ,” breathed Feuilly viciously against his lips as the air slowly returned to his lungs.

 

“Whatcha gonna do about it?” smirked Bahorel, teeth glinting dully in the moonlight, the only part of him that was really discernable in the darkness.

 

Feuilly said nothing in reply but reached out with a lightning fast hand and grabbed Bahorel’s balls in a grip just the right side of painful. Bahorel groaned and it was Feuilly’s turn to smirk, a burst of rough, triumphant laughter escaping him, his breath hot and sharp with whiskey, ashy with smoke, ghosting over Bahorel’s suddenly super heated skin.

 

This might not be a fight but it was still a competition and Bahorel was not going to give in so easily. He grabbed Feuilly’s shoulders to switch their positions but Feuilly had evidently been expecting this and a second later Bahorel doubled over, Feuilly’s sharp knuckles lodged in his kidney.

 

“Nice try,” the redhead hissed, “But not tonight. Get on your knees.”

 

“And if I don’t?” smirked Bahorel, his eyes bright and predatory despite the wheeze in his voice.

 

“You get on your knees or I’ll put you on them,” replied Feuilly coolly.

 

Slowly, audaciously slowly, Bahorel lowered himself to his knees on the cold concrete. Once he was settled he looked up at Feuilly, one scarred eyebrow raised, and drawled, “Now what, princess?”

 

“You know what,” growled Feuilly, “Get to it, meathead.”

 

Bahorel smirked and ran his large hands up Feuilly’s thighs teasingly, feeling the wiry redhead’s muscles tense beneath his touch.

 

“Someone’s on edge tonight.”

 

Feuilly grunted, “I don’t know about you but I- _ah!_ \- I just spent twenty minutes watching two hot chicks make out then two hot dudes grind on each other ‘til one spunked in his pants, most of which was happening while my mate’s girlfriend sat on my lap in a fucking ridiculously short skirt – so I’m a little on edge, yeah.”

 

Bahorel nuzzled his face into the warmth of Feuilly’s groin and felt his flatmate’s already hard cock twitch. He sniggered quietly, then gasped as Feuilly grabbed him roughly by the hair, sharp knuckles gripping tightly to his shaggy Mohawk and hauling him closer until he was all but suffocated by Feuilly’s crotch, breathing in through the denim of his jeans and finding his senses overwhelmed by the musky smell of arousal that bled through the fabric and stirred his own cock hungrily.

 

“Get to it,” repeated Feuilly in a low growl, and Bahorel was more excited than he would ever admit as Feuilly held him back with one hand and undid his own trousers, slipping his cock free. The boxer surged forward and licked one long, luxurious stripe from the base to the leaking tip, making Feuilly groan gratefully. Encouraged, Bahorel wrapped his hands around Feuilly’s sharp hips and pulled the length into his mouth, sucking harshly and bobbing up and down, determined to get his friend off embarrassingly quickly.

 

“Oh fuck, you filthy bastard!” hissed Feuilly through clenched teeth, Bahorel’s tongue piercing sliding maddeningly up and down the sensitive underside of his shaft as the boxer easily held down his stuttering hips.

 

Bahorel slid back up Feuilly’s cock, keeping the head in his mouth and swirling his pierced tongue lazily all over it, tasting the redhead’s precome and enjoying the thickness stretching his lips. One huge hand curled around the length that wasn’t being teased by his tongue and began to stroke firmly and quickly, drawing another groan from his lover.

 

Bahorel was a stubborn asshole sometimes, single-minded and unwilling to compromise; Feuilly hated these traits most of the time, but occasionally he was willing to concede that they had their uses, particularly when the thing that Bahorel put his mind to was making Feuilly come so blindingly hard that the relief was almost painful; a vacuum left behind after all the frustrations of the evening.

 

Feuilly almost always swore loudly when he came, but Bahorel had never actually seen him fall to his knees before; the image was mentally filed away for future reference, either the next time he needed good teasing material or he wanted a sure fire win when they wrestled.

 

They both knelt on the concrete ground, Feuilly panting and his eyes looking so far away that Bahorel yanked down Éponine’s borrowed (and now ruined) leggings and began pumping his own cock, expecting no help from his blissed out flatmate.

 

“No, don’t- ”

 

Feuilly reached out and grasped him warmly, his eyes still misty and distant but his movements concentrated, the calluses on his hands rubbing Bahorel just the right side of too roughly, just the way Bahorel had memorised, the way he always imagined it felt when it was his own hand in a cold, empty bed.

 

“Feuilly, I- Your mouth- ”

 

“Yeah, alright,” and in one smooth movement the redhead engulfed the head of Bahorel’s cock in heat so intense the boxer wanted to scream. He mimicked Bahorel’s own tactic – _the fucker_ – and continued stroking him with a rough fist while sucking intensely at the head, reducing the boxer to mumbled incoherency in a matter of seconds.

 

“Feu… Fuck! Feuilly, yes! Don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop, or I’ll- ”

 

The threat was never finished, Bahorel’s mouth too preoccupied with the long drawn out moan of orgasm to bother ending his sentence. Feuilly continued sucking lightly until the boxer had to swat him away, too sensitive for the continued attention.

 

They both remained on the ground, shifting so their backs were against the alley wall, and Feuilly lit up two cigarettes, both men sighing gladly as the first inhale of nicotine hissed gently into their pounding bloodstreams.

 

“Home then?” asked Feuilly after a while, flicking his cigarette at the wall opposite where they sat.

 

“Round two?” suggested Bahorel with a smirk.

 

“Home first. Then round two,” agreed Feuilly, “I’m gonna get fucking frostbite on my arse if we sit here any longer.”

 

Bahorel snorted gracelessly and helped him up, steering them both in the direction of their shared flat.


	4. Chapter 4

Éponine’s hand slid up Musichetta’s skirt, grazing light fingertips over the top of the other girl’s thigh before the barmaid batted her hand away playfully, smiling into their kiss as she did so.

 

Éponine grinned back, nipping Musichetta’s lip as her hand returned to its exploration of Musichetta’s panty line. This time Musichetta pushed her away more firmly and Éponine took the hint, breaking their kiss to whisper, “You don’t want to?”

 

“Ah, ma cherie,” Musichetta sighed, “Darling Bossuet’s luck must be rubbing off on me… I _want_ to, but I just came on today.”

 

Ah. Right.

 

There was a moment’s pause between the two girls,  their heavy breathing the only sound to be heard, then Éponine laid her hand gently on Musichetta’s waist and said, “I don’t mind if you don’t.”

 

Musichetta’s face went from bashful smile to open mouthed surprise  before settling on sultry smirk in a matter of seconds, and Éponine drank in the changing expressions with a cheeky smile of her own. This widened to a grin when Musichetta laughingly replied, “How’s a girl to refuse an offer like that? Sometimes I forget that not all my lovers are nervous little boys…”

 

Their lips brushed as they both giggled drunkenly, imagining Joly’s reaction to the idea of menstrual sex. Then Éponine leaned down and kissed Musichetta softly, tasting her friend’s lips, sweet with wine, then deeper into her mouth, sharp with the tang of lime and tequila.

 

Musichetta squirmed under the smaller girl, used to taking charge in the metaphorical bedroom but happy to cede control this once, even letting out a small groan as Éponine took both her hands and pinned them to the floor at their sides. Éponine kissed the barmaid deeply and ground their hips together with a dancer’s control until Musichetta gasped beneath her, “Darling, let me touch you! I _need_ to, please!”

 

Éponine released Musichetta’s hands with a wild grin, and suddenly found herself flipped on to her back on the floor with Chetta now straddling her hips. She barked with delighted laughter as the other girl shimmied gracefully out of her shirt and suggested, “Less clothing, I think?”

 

Éponine canted her slim hips invitingly and Musichetta pulled Bahorel’s huge jeans off her without even needing to undo the buttons, revealing a lacy black g-string with frills at the sides and a tiny bow at the front. Musichetta raised an amused eyebrow at Éponine’s unusual display of girlish frivolity but the dancer just shrugged, “I came straight from work.”

 

“Can I tell you a secret?” whispered Musichetta hotly in Éponine’s ear as she dived down to cover the other girl’s neck with little kisses and gentle nips.

 

“Mmm?” hummed Éponine as Musichetta sucked lightly at her throat.

 

“I love watching you work. When you dance… Ah darling, you’re so beautiful! Like a maenad, so wild, so graceful, so fierce…”

 

Éponine giggled drunkenly, “You sound like Grantaire!” then pulled a face, “… who I do not want to be thinking about right now. So stop with the flattery and kiss me already.”

 

“Your wish, my sweet,” smiled Musichetta, and leaned down to continue her ministrations to Éponine’s neck.

 

Ten minutes later Éponine was panting on the warm, wooden floorboards in only her lacy knickers, still  straddled by Musichetta who had managed to retain both her bra and boyshorts as she traced a light, teasing finger over Éponine’s damp underwear.

 

“Beautiful,” the barmaid crooned as Éponine shook her head weakly, “Yes you are. I am going to make you _feel_ beautiful, and loved, and all the wonderful things that someone as precious as you ought to, okay?”

 

Éponine had stopped her protestations with a gasp as Musichetta’s finger brushed over her clit, moaning instead, “ _Please_.”

 

Musichetta grinned wolfishly, looking  as though she was about to take Éponine apart completely, but a sudden grimace lanced across her pretty face and she faltered, involuntarily yanking her hand away from Éponine and clutching her own abdomen.

 

Éponine knew that look only too well and rested her hands sympathetically on her friend’s belly, asking quietly, “You okay?”

 

Musichetta nodded, wincing, “Fine. It’s just a cramp, it’ll pass.”

 

“Come on,” Éponine put her hands on Musichetta’s hips and gently guided the other girl off her before taking her hand and helping her to her feet, “I know what’ll help.”

 

The smaller girl led them to the bathroom, passing the heated conglomeration of Courfeyrac, Cosette, and Marius with a snigger and pointedly ignoring the noises emanating from behind her closed bedroom door (Éponine tried extremely hard not to imagine what state her bed sheets would be in the next morning).

 

Once they had safely reached the (relative) quietude of the bathroom, Éponine stripped unselfconsciously out of her frilly knickers and beckoned Musichetta to join her under the warm shower. Musichetta, who still wore a slightly pained expression and was keeping a hand pressed to her lower belly, smiled gratefully and shucked off the remainder of her clothing, freeing her large breasts and stepping out of her own underwear, before joining Éponine under the hot spray of water.

 

“Sorry we don’t have a bath,” apologised Éponine, moving to stand behind Musichetta so that the other girl was more fully immersed in the soothing water. Chetta pulled Éponine’s thin arms around her and tipped her head back to lean on the smaller girl’s bony shoulder, a smile playing across her full lips.

 

“Better?” asked Éponine quietly, rubbing a gentle circle over Musichetta’s abdomen.

 

“So much better sweetheart, thank you,” sighed Chetta contentedly, nuzzling her face against Éponine’s cheek.

 

“You know what else helps?” Éponine asked in a low voice.

 

Musichetta grinned, catlike and sultry, “Do tell, ma cherie.”

 

“Orgasms,” purred Éponine.

 

“You’re sure you don’t mind?” asked Musichetta one last time.

 

“You know I wouldn’t offer if I did,” hummed Éponine, her hands sliding up Musichetta’s belly to brush softly over her chest, teasing her nipples carefully and making her shudder.

 

“Too sensitive?” whispered Éponine, stilling her movements.

 

“No, no,” groaned Musichetta, “It’s perfect, please.”

 

Éponine smiled and went back to thumbing over Musichetta’s nipples, the swell of her full breasts tantalising in contrast to Éponine’s own relatively flat chest. She planted hot, wet kisses all along Chetta’s shoulder, occasionally pausing to nibble or lick the tawny skin that was slowly flushing a dusky pink under the heat of the water.

 

“Oh darling…” Musichetta purred distractedly, her own hands reaching behind her to pull Éponine into a deep kiss under the stream of the shower. One of Éponine’s hands snaked lower as they kissed, stroking teasingly over Chetta’s hips before dipping between her legs and making the other girl moan into her smiling mouth. Slowly she stroked over Musichetta’s slit, her fingers coming away with a thin slick of blood but neither girl minded as it washed easily away down the plughole. Musichetta broke the kiss to moan lowly and Éponine slowly pressed two fingers inside her.

 

“Okay?” Éponine breathed, her own arousal growing as Musichetta clenched hotly around her digits.

 

“Oh yes,” sighed Musichetta, “Yes please, more.”

 

Éponine obliged, thrusting her fingers more steadily into her friend, building up a rhythm, while beginning to rub tight circles over her clit with her thumb, making Musichetta writhe against her.

 

“Good, so good,” moaned Musichetta, relaxed beyond the point of self-consciousness about the stain of red on the inside of her trembling thighs.

 

The sight of the water running over Musichetta’s magnificent curves, the droplets settling in the dips of her collarbones and falling from the peaks of her nipples, the steam rising from her dark, damp skin was making Éponine dizzy with desire. She slid her free hand between her own legs and began to rub lazily over her clit while still focussing most of her attention on Musichetta.

 

Musichetta’s legs were shaking and her muscles fluttered around Éponine’s buried fingers as she moaned freely under the other girl’s attentions.

 

“Close?” whispered Éponine huskily, her own muscles beginning to twitch as she rubbed herself faster.

 

“Don’t st-stop,” whimpered Musichetta, her eyes tightly shut and her head tipped back to rest on Éponine’s shoulder, “Please darling, don’t stop.”

 

Éponine didn’t, mouthing hungry kisses along Musichetta’s neck, chasing the water that ran down her skin with her tongue, nipping here and there, sucking light bruises that would fade within hours as she worked her friend closer and closer to orgasm. Éponine felt Chetta tremble around her and the girl let out a loud cry as she came, Éponine’s fingers still working inside her until the aftershocks subsided.

 

Finally Musichetta murmured, “ _So_ much better, thank you sweetheart.”

 

She turned to give a lazy, satisfied smile which Éponine returned, glad to have helped her friend. They kissed again under the stream of the shower but after a moment Musichetta pulled suddenly away. “But what about you, cherie?”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Éponine shrugged. She  barely managed to stop herself from yelping as Musichetta suddenly dropped to her knees and closed her hot mouth over Éponine’s clit, tonguing gently as a finger slid inside her.

 

“F-fuck!” Éponine managed under the sudden onslaught of stimulation, “Fuck you’re really – _ah!_ – really good at this! How… _Oh_ … With your boys?”

 

Musichetta turned devilish eyes up to Éponine, laying her tongue down flat and dragging it over her clit before saying simply, “The skills are transferrable,” and going back to quick flicks of her tongue over the sensitive nub.

 

Éponine felt her orgasm building much faster than usual as Musichetta expertly worked her; she supposed she was already excited from having been touching herself while she fucked Chetta. A moment or two later all suppositions were wiped from her mind as she felt herself begin to spasm and Chetta redoubled her efforts instantly. Her orgasm hit her harder than it had in a long time, and she gasped out “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” repeatedly as Chetta continued to torment her with tongue and fingers.

 

“Please, _fuck!_ ” Éponine managed as her legs shook, “No more, please, god, fuck you’re amazing.”

 

Musichetta smiled coyly and moved over on the tiled shower floor as Éponine slid down the wall to join her. They sat side by side, hands clasped tightly together as they caught their breath. Musichetta began to giggle quietly.

 

“What?” asked Éponine curiously, wondering if she had missed something funny in her post orgasmic haze.

 

“I, er, think I ought to get cleaned up,” sniggered Chetta, gesturing at the mess on the tiles beneath her.

 

“Well good thing we’re in a shower then,” grinned Éponine lazily, both girls getting to their feet. “I’d offer for you to stay over but considering the circumstances…” A loud smack followed by a groan echoed through the adjoining bedroom wall to them just as Éponine shut off the water, “… can I come over to your place tonight?”

 

“Sure,” smiled Musichetta, taking the towel offered to her and giving a kiss in return.


	5. Chapter 5

When they got to the bedroom Grantaire was fully expecting to be thrown down onto the bed before being ravaged. He was looking forward to it, to allowing his shaky limbs to go limp and simply let Enjolras have his wicked way with his pliant body. He was surprised when Enjolras pushed him up against the wall instead, pinning him there with a fist in his t-shirt and a hand loosely held around his throat as he growled, "God, you're amazing 'Aire. Fuck, the things you let me do! You are so gorgeous, so perfect, such a good boy for me, so fucking good."

 

Grantaire squirmed under the onslaught of praise, confusedly muttering, "No, no, I'm fine, it's fine, you don't have to..." his drink-numbed fingers fiddling with the buckle of Enjolras's belt, not understanding why they'd skipped Enjolras's orgasm – surely the best part! - and gone straight into aftercare.

 

"I don't have to what?" Enjolras growled, tightening the hand around Grantaire's throat and making his lover whimper quietly.

 

"I can do whatever I want with you, be it fuck you or praise you. You're mine to do with as I please." And oh, okay, that was more like it.

 

Enjolras's fingers slowly tightened their grip as the blonde leaned in to kiss and nip at Grantaire's already swollen lips, Grantaire's own hands sliding uselessly away from the buckle to clutch desperately at the leather of Enjolras's belt, holding on like a drowning man as his breath hitched in short, tight gasps. Then suddenly the hot pressure was gone and replaced with sharp pain as Enjolras bit down hard on the tendon where Grantaire's neck met shoulder. As breath returned to his lungs in a whooshing gasp he tried to cry out against the pain, resulting in a strangled whine. Enjolras smirked and ordered simply, "On the bed. Clothes off."

 

Grantaire felt sticky and humiliated where he had already come once for Enjolras, but it was a good feeling, especially when he caught Enjolras's predatory smile at the sight of him peeling off his stained boxers. He desperately wanted to be hard again for Enjolras, but the combination of alcohol and his recent orgasm denied him. Instead he contented himself with stripping as efficiently as he was able to and positioning himself on his knees with his arse in the air. He pressed his slumped torso into the mattress, crossing his hands at the wrist above his head in order to present as inviting a sight as he could.

 

"Good boy," purred Enjolras lowly and Grantaire heard the sound of a belt being unbuckled and a fly unzipped followed by the soft flumps of discarded clothing hitting the floor. The mattress dipped as Enjolras knelt behind Grantaire, one hand ghosting teasingly over the curve of his arse, barely touching the skin but managing to send tingles shooting down Grantaire's spine nonetheless.

 

"Please," mewled Grantaire, feeling suddenly bereft and desperately needy, naked and dirty and bared for Enjolras's use. His soft prick made him feel even more vulnerable and somehow even more aroused by the situation despite his lack of physical reaction.

 

"Please what?" asked Enjolras in a tone of feigned disinterest even as he continued to lightly stroke and scrape his nails over the skin of Grantaire's backside.

 

"Please... whatever you want. Use me. Just, just take me. Fuck me. Please," Grantaire whined, shifting on his knees to get closer to Enjolras, pressing into the light touch and crying out gratefully when he received a sharp smack for his presumptuousness.

 

"You really are such a slut," Enjolras chuckled, spanking Grantaire's other cheek to leave two even red handprints.

 

"I bet you'd even let me fuck you like this, right now, with no preparation. And you'd thank me for it."

 

"Yes!" keened Grantaire as Enjolras spread his cheeks and brushed a light fingertip over his entrance, "Yes! Fuck, I'd let you, I'll let you, please!"

 

Enjolras chuckled again before spitting onto Grantaire's hole and rubbing the saliva over him with his thumb, making Grantaire moan and push back for more.

 

"Hush, you needy thing," he warned, sliding his thumb into Grantaire and beginning to stretch him. By the time he was confident enough to add his other spit-slicked thumb Grantaire was whimpering constantly and rocking himself back and forth on Enjolras's hand, begging wordlessly to be filled more completely.

 

"Stay still!" he snapped, and Grantaire stilled instantly. Enjolras pushed both his thumbs as deeply inside his lover as he could then slowly withdrew them, stretching and toying with Grantaire's rim, spitting on him, taking his time to enjoy the total submission of the body beneath him.

 

Grantaire's legs were shaking with the effort of holding still and every cruel twist and pull of Enjolras's hands made him whimper and keen. His dick was half hard again between his legs but he ignored it, focusing instead on the feeling of Enjolras inside him, if only with his hands rather than his cock.

 

"Enj, fuck, please, I'm ready, please," he begged, almost tearing up with the frustration of it all, wanting so badly to please but being made to stay still and passive.

 

"Shh," Enjolras hushed him, pulling both his thumbs outwards to expose Grantaire completely then licking one broad, hot stripe over his stretched entrance, making Grantaire moan and shudder despite his best efforts.

 

"You'll have my cock in a moment you little slut. I'm going to use my fucktoy until I'm completely satisfied and you're going to love it."

 

Grantaire was only able to moan _"Yes,"_ as Enjolras continued to toy with his rim while reaching the other hand over to the bedside table where he knew Grantaire kept the condoms. He quickly rolled one on then slowly rubbed himself up and down Grantaire's cleft, unable to resist one last tease, one last chance to make Grantaire groan so desperately yet hold himself still simply because Enjolras told him to.

 

"Do you want this?" Enjolras breathed, pressing the head of his cock against Grantaire's entrance, the pulsing heat making him feel almost dizzy.

 

"Yes," whined Grantaire needily, "Yes, yes, please, yes!"

 

"Come on then," Enjolras growled, trying to keep his voice steady and low rather than breathy with excitement, "If you want it so much come on and fuck yourself. Show me how much you want it."

 

Grantaire made a choked off, guttural noise as he pressed himself eagerly back onto Enjolras's cock, forcing the intrusion and welcoming the burn that came with too little preparation, reveling in the knowledge that he would feel every inch of Enjolras for hours to come. He would feel Enjolras every time he tried to sit down tomorrow, would know that he had been claimed and used and owned so perfectly inside and out.

 

Once Enjolras had bottomed out, the swell of Grantaire's arse pressed firmly into the slim v of his hips, he reached one hand forward and grasped Grantaire's cock, the unexpected contact making Grantaire gasp and clench delightfully around him, pulling a deep moan from the blonde.

 

"Slut," he murmured appreciatively, tugging Grantaire's cock roughly, feeling him grow fully hard after only a few strokes. Once he was satisfied that Grantaire had adjusted to being filled with so little prep he withdrew his hand to a whimper from Grantaire and delivered another stinging slap to his arse, barking, "I don't remember telling you to stop moving!"

 

Grantaire rocked forwards with a grunt then back again, impaling himself as Enjolras stared, slack jawed, entranced by the sight of himself disappearing inside that grasping heat. Grantaire continued to work himself, whimpering as he started pushing harder, needing the rough fucking that Enjolras was refusing to give him. At last Enjolras's hands settled on his hips, the tight grip alone enough to still his frantic motions.

 

He felt Enjolras slide slowly out of him,  before slamming harshly back in, making Grantaire moan appreciatively as he began to thrust hard and fast, pressing Grantaire's head and shoulders  harshly into the mattress as he fucked him deeper and harder with every stroke. The fingers on his hips dug  into the skin, certain to leave marks, and then Enjolras was hauling him backwards to meet every thrust, pounding into him. He used his own body against him, spreading his cheeks wide to watch as he fucked him mercilessly, unheeding of Grantaire's moans and cries.

 

Every few thrusts Enjolras was striking sparks off Grantaire's prostate, and as he lay there, letting Enjolras fuck into him, he felt his orgasm stirring hotly in his gut.  Grantaire clenched against the warm sensation, making Enjolras growl out a harsh moan; he was desperate to please his master before finding his own release again. .

 

"How can such a slut - _ah!_ \- have such a ti-tight arse?" Enjolras snarled, but the stammer in his voice betrayed him to Grantaire, who prided himself on being able to induce such a stutter as often as possible. Enjolras's thrusts somehow seemed to go even deeper as the metronomic rhythm of his hips faltered, and he fucked into Grantaire wildly for a few seconds before a low groan rumbled up through his chest. With a few more shallow thrusts he came, still moaning,  collapsing over Grantaire's back  and remained buried inside him.

 

Grantaire bore the extra weight for as long as he could, but he was drunk and exhausted already. It wasn't long before his limbs began to shake and Enjolras pulled himself off and rolled over to the side, removing the condom quickly before pulling Grantaire into his arms.

 

"My good boy," he murmured, "My god, you're amazing. You're so good for me, so beautiful, so perfect when you submit like that. Come for me darling boy, come on, you've earned it."

 

He wrapped his hand around Grantaire's straining, leaking cock. He didn't even have to stroke before Grantaire came thickly across his fist with a quiet, happy whimper.

 

"Perfect, that's better isn't it? My good boy," Enjolras soothed, pulling Grantaire's back into his chest so that he could hold him, feel his heartbeat, hear his breathing as it slowed and evened out.

 

"I love you," he whispered after a few moments, when the room was no longer filled with the sound of panting breath. Grantaire was so thoroughly fucked out that he could only raise a little throaty whine in response, but Enjolras held him close and kissed his hair until they both fell asleep.

 


End file.
